Sharing the sharing.
Beach House’s warm-toned, wandering and languid guitars recall the work of L.A. Paisley Underground resident David Roback. Like Roback, Beach House guitarist, Alex Scally, is accompanied by a silver-tongued siren, Victoria Legrand (whose vocals recall Nico rather than Smith or Sandoval). Together the duo produce haunting, psychedelic pop, an appropriate sound, and mood, to usher in autumn. Album and tour hit early next month.
It’s been a good two and a half years since I checked in with Sprites and what do you know, they’re on a new label and just popped out a new album, Modern Gameplay, this week. They have a bunch of great songs on their site, so I thought they deserved a new posting. If you’re familiar with Jason’s music you know to expect a sweet, nostalgic take on the Breakfast Club Generation. No change this time around (except for his return to riffing out sweet licks on the keyboard), even when he sings about zombies and the end of the world in his tribute to horror-masters George Romero, Sam Raimi, et al. It’s a twisted take on Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten complete with Korzen’s uncanny ability to write these epic hooks. I’ve listened to that song like thirty times in a row now. Alisa’s ready to put a brick through the computer right about now. Don’t write off Sprites as a band stuck in the past. They’re intimately familiar with contemporary culture. This song, just one example, captures the heartbreak of Generation Blog with deft aplomb.
Taking pop cues from fellow Chicagoans, The Sea and Cake, and tapping into hip-hop’s rhythms (courtesy of DJ White Lightning, whose desert island discs by the way are Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors and Daft Punk’s Homework) Royce delivers up a second dose of everything from introspective campfire songs to bouncy romps praising girls on bikes (one of my favorite songs this year!). They frequently put Chicago’s underground MCs on mic duty to keep things fresh and now. Royce forges music of the future, a pastiche of pop past, present, and tomorrow, launching from where the Slabco family left off. Now if they’d just get out of the Windy City more often…
My sister-in-law’s family live in one of those farm suburbs outside of Philadelphia. Whenever we visit them we need to drive to a larger suburb called King of Prussia for our “big city” amenities (i.e., first-run movies or non-Wal-Mart shopping). The running joke is, “Come on kids, we’re off to see the King of Prussia!” You can imagine their disappointment when they learn there is no castle, no king — only a mall just like the one they have back home. I mention all this to contrast with the band King of Prussia (from Athens, GA, ironically), recommended by 3hive reader James A.. Unlike the aforementioned mall, King of Prussia live up to the promise of their name with lush, romantic, and, yes, regal pop. In fact, the only disappointment you’ll experience is figuring out how to get your hands on their debut CD, Save the Scene. (Hey KofP, shed some light if you’re reading this.)
Greg and Tom Z. both pitched suggestions for Mason Proper, so it seemed, um, appropriate to check the band out. (Sorry.) In that Nick Hornby sort of way, they had me at the album title — “There is a Moth in Your Chest.” From Ypsilanti, MI via Up North, Mason Proper sounds unlike any of the other megabytes tripping lately through my almost-dead iPod. (It keeps cycling through the songs without actually playing most of them. Occasionally I’ll get half a song or so.) Crazy pop? Art rock slapstick? Just categorizing these tunes seemed like a waste of time. Expect obscure lyrics, sweeping melodies, noise, dream-pop buzz, and the kitchen sink, too. After hearing My Brightest Diamond and Mason Proper, I’m wondering what else Ypsi has to offer.
Yes, yes, I admit it. I’m a sucker for mod and mod-ish bands, bands who take that great foundation built by the Who and the Kinks and many others, and then add their own modern interpretation. Bands like the Bishops, who are from of all places (wait for it) London. The Bishops have tight harmonies and sharp licks, no doubt due to the twin brothers Matt and Pete who are responsible for said harmonies and licks. And since the poor drummer probably feels overshadowed by the twins, who probably hog the spotlight and the front of the stage, I’d just like to add that the drummer is Chris McConville, everyone’s new favorite Scottish drummer.
This CD’s been staring me in the face for months. Staring up at me from the bottom of a towering stack of albums on my desk at home. Exactly why it took me so long to listen to it remains a mystery (I’m scared of alliteration? I became accustomed to it acting as a foundation to the mess that is my desk?). I mean I like cookies, especially since my friend Jennifer gave me this exquisite recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and I couldn’t resist another day. So it’s time to share the sharing as Casper and Co. have been very generous with a scrumptious batch of songs. The best way to describe Casper & The Cookies is kitchen sink pop because they’re all over the place. They seemingly worship a great variety of pop idols. Wonderful moments of The Beach Boys (“Summer Spider” ), Big Star (“Sid from Central Park” ), XTC (“Little Lamb”), Violent Femmes (“Oh!”) and The Damned (“Take It Away, Kathy”) all manifest themselves in the songs. And in “Kroetenwanderung” the band literally turns to the kitchen for its instruments, snapping green beans and slamming cupboards to create an organic loop that provides the rhythm. Casper & The Cookies, like their name suggests, are playful, yummy and delightfully irresistible.
Don’t let the name fool you. Monster Movie plays music antonymic to its moniker. Now I won’t spend too much time comparing Monster Movie to their guitarist’s old band, Slowdive, but wow it’s as if someone awoke Slowdive from an extended slumber. But see, they’re still drowsy from their nap. In a sort of been-there-done-that move Monster Movie dropped the wall of guitars from an eleven to a five or six. Fear not shoegazers, you still get a liberal dose of dreamy, lush, blissed-out pop, along with the occasional dance-floor number like “Driving Through the Red Lights.”
A year or so finds San Francisco’s Finest Dearest a little more raw and angry, muscially at least. (Carly’s new e-mail was very much as pleasant as the last one, though. Thanks.) Both new tracks off their upcoming 7″ are tense, energetic, argumentative, confrontational and really good listening material. I can’t wait to hear their next message in our inbox.
We’re Making a Sound 1 [MP3, 5.1MB, 160kbps]
March into Flames [MP3, 4.3MB, 160kbps]
Original post: 09/15/05
Carly from Finest Dearest left a nice e-mail in our Suggestion Box recently (nice because she acknowledged that we receive a lot of suggestions) and so here is San Francisco’s Finest Dearest. Yes, Carly, I do like these two songs, particularly “Idaho,” which reminds me of being in high school again for some reason, in a good way. Your classic indie-rock sound is like comfort food, you know? Mashed potatoes or p.b. & j. or whatever it is for each of us. Oh, and good luck with the debut of your EP Pacemaker in a few weeks. If you ever hit the big time and make it to Detroit…
More Swedes, anyone? Gotheburg’s Out of Clouds play an arena-pop that can only come from being raised on ABBA and ’70s AM radio (do they have ’70s AM radio in Sweden?). Sharp licks, sweet hooks, and vibrant harmonies usher in their second EP Into Your Lovely Summer, which seems only appropriate as ours starts to slip away.